


The Stars Shine Bright Tonight

by the_nokken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is So Done (Good Omens), Crowley is angsty in a graveyard, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), but here i am, i wrote this when i should be writing the two essays I have due in the next week, sometimes you gotta yell at god to get her shit together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nokken/pseuds/the_nokken
Summary: Crowley breaks down and decides to pray, to at least give the Almighty a piece of his mind. Maybe it's her turn to respond.





	The Stars Shine Bright Tonight

“Hello. Er, I know it’s been awhile. A long while. A few millennia, I think.” Crowley took a deep breath, he was standing as close to the church as he could without feeling that deep, angry, burning all over, as it happened that meant he was standing in a graveyard, angrily muttering at a church. “Right. Well, I hope you’re happy with this mess. Is this what you wanted? Everyone fighting each other? All of the bees dying and the forests burning and- and the whales! Big beautiful things getting killed off by horrible people looking for money?” Crowley slid down the side of a mausoleum, half staring at the church and half glaring at the sky, at the stars he could see winking against the blackness of the surrounding sky. 

“And those bloody angels! Great lot of good they do, why, I can list on one hand how many angels are worth keeping around! And I thought we were supposed to be the evil side. How many children have died? How many innocent people, innocent creatures have to die before you’ll give a fuck about anything and do something!” Crowley’s voice was getting louder, he couldn’t help it. The Almighty had been too quiet for too long, the Almighty hadn’t done anything when the world nearly ended, the Almighty had smited and blighted and cast him out for asking questions, for listening to ideas she didn’t approve of. 

“And why? Why do you let them keep fighting and hating and killing each other because some of them hate the existence of other people? You’re supposed to be loving! You’re supposed to care.” Tears were beginning to sting his eyes behind the black glasses he always wore. “If I’m a demon then why am I the only one who cares enough to ask?” He paused, tears streaming down his cheeks, his teeth clenched. “Why did you let any of us fall in the first place? Did we question why you were so silent? Did we find fault with your bloody plan?” The sound of a demon’s cries the Almighty paused. 

She had made an oath a very long time ago (a very, very long time ago, so long ago you and I could most likely never comprehend the vast distance between this moment where a demon prayed and the moment the Almighty decided that she would no longer directly communicate). She hadn’t meant for things to go this pear shaped and she was honestly mostly relieved that things were still standing (well, mostly). Her whole laissez-faire philosophy really hadn’t gone well, but she was stubborn. Until now, that is. 

A demon, he had been an angel once. She remembered the lovely stars, clusters and clusters of them, he made all those millennia ago. She remembered his fall, he hadn’t done anything, nothing except question and fraternize (he was good at befriending people he wasn’t supposed to, she had seen that with the Principality Aziraphale), but gradually he fell. He was bright, so bright. He appeared he still was, even here. Praying, it really was curious, the idea of a demon praying. She had never seen this before. And she had seen lots. 

It pained her to watch her creations, each one she had crafted so lovingly and carefully, fall into the path of destruction, evil, and ruin. But still she resolved herself to stay out of it, Metatron could run on it’s own for the most part, that’s what it had been designed to do after all. But this plea, this prayer, from the demon Crowley, moved her more than she could express. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have a plan for all of this, most of this. It was just, ineffable? Hard to explain? 

She thought, and she waited, and she ruminated. The Almighty made herself a cup of tea, took a couple of heavenly ibuprofen to fight off the massive headache that was building up behind her temple, and sat down, determined to not get up until she had come up with a satisfactory response for the demon. 

Crowley was driving. Driving had always helped to clear his head, just him, the Benteley, and whatever road he happened to find himself on at nearly sunrise. He had a tape playing, it was supposed to be something classical the Angel had leant him the other week, of course it was playing some hacked up rendition of ‘Tie Your Mother Down” but mostly played by what sounded like a string quartet. And then the music changed. 

“Demon Crowley?” A voice reminiscent of lightning, sunsets, and crashing pianos crackled through the speakers. 

“Er- Present, who the hell are you?” Crowley eyed the radio, no one had tried to contact him from downstairs in at least a year, but it didn’t sound like anyone he had heard before. 

“You don’t remember the voice of your creator? No matter, I heard you. I am here to answer you.” Crowley slammed his foot on the brakes, skidding to a breakneck halt that didn’t break his neck, unsurprisingly the wheels were still in tact and there was no melted rubber on the road behind him. 

“Oh, right then.” Crowley sat, waiting for more. Afterall, how does one address God? Besides prayer, Crowley had never spoken to the Almighty directly, only to Metatron. 

“Demon Crowley, it was never my intention for Heaven to prevail in the great fight.” The voice was careful, measured, but still booming with all of the power of a hurricane. “You and the Principality Aziraphale did exactly as I thought you would. As for the rest of this world…” She paused, her voice trailed off as Crowley stared silently through the windshield onto the pitch black stretch of road and trees before him. “Dem- Is it alright if I refer to you as Crowley? This Demon business is getting a bit repetitive.” 

“Crowley is fine.” 

“Thank you, Crowley. As for the rest of the world, I love my creations. They’re imperfect, as are all of us. I was hoping that without my interference, without my direct hands moving the pieces to speak, they would prevail. I have seen more war, more hatred, more malice than I ever intended or wished to see, do you understand? I am not happy, Crowley. I am stubborn, and tired. These eons feel like moments to me.” She sighed and around the world every fire was extinguished in a second. 

“But do you know what else I have seen? Love. Great pots of love. I see love in the way a dog and a person look at eachother, I have seen weddings, and births, and so many flowers given to so many people. I have seen loved ones reunited, I have seen and heard and felt as many  _ ‘I love you _ ’s as I have felt hearts broken. If I know one thing about these people, they are able to pick up the pieces of whatever mess they’ve found themselves in. I’ve seen an angel and a demon realize their love for one another over 6000 years spent living amongst the most loving place in existence.” 

“The world will recover, the plants will grow back, the whales and the bees and the thousands of other beautiful, wonderful creations will prosper. Except mosquitos, I’m working on something for them that doesn’t matter right now. But my point is that, Crowley, all good things happen in good time. Good things can happen even when it seems impossible for anything good to come of something so horrible. And maybe I do need to try harder, and maybe I will. All in time, I promise you, I will watch and I will work.”

“Crowley, after the would be end of the world, a single nightingale really sang in Berkeley Square. After all you have seen, after all you have been through, do you think anything is not at least a little deliberate? Adam Young was hidden, he was human through and through. You found Aziraphale, and he found you back. Demons aren’t inherently evil, and angels aren’t inherently good, we both know this. Do what you will, knowing all of this, I don’t think even I can predict your actions henceforth, but please do remember that I swore to love all of my creations equally, that hasn’t changed.” The tape sparked once, twice, three times, and then there was a whirring and a song with a lot of flutes and a lot of harp started to play, there were no lyrics. 

Crowley turned the key, took his foot off the brake, he pulled a slim, jet black cell phone out of one pocket and dialed one of three numbers he had saved in it. 

“Angel? Meet me at my place, we need to talk… about things.” The sky was growing a dim heather gray on the horizon as morning drew near, but above him you could still see the stars.


End file.
